


Game Reset

by RaceUlfson



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Time Kompression is weird, not everyone is old enough to do the things they do where you live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaceUlfson/pseuds/RaceUlfson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We have a John Doe." She threw open the door and stood aside so Seifer could peek into the room. "And the only thing he says, over and over again, is 'Is Seifer all right?'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Reset

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darksquall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksquall/gifts).



> Previously posted elsewhere, my apologies if you have read it before.

Game Reset

 

His company had installed the new computer station at the hospital, so Seifer Almasy wasn't too concerned when Nurse Ames called and asked him to stop by. Probably the bracket under the granite counter top; he'd warned them it was over designed and that the nurses would be getting black and blue knees from it. Seifer grabbed his tool kit out of the truck and ambled into the hospital, nodding to Security while he mentally redesigned the counter the way it should have been.

Nurse Ames bustled up and flashed him a tired smile. "Thanks for coming so quickly. Your first name is Seifer, isn't it?"

"That's what they told me," he replied. It wasn't as much of a joke as it sounded, but she didn't know that. "Lemme guess, the bracket has run its last pair of white stockings?"

"What? Oh, no, it's fine; you did a lovely job. That's why I remembered you, and you have such an unusual name..." Ames was walking briskly down the corridor, so Seifer followed, wincing a bit at the clanks of his toolbox in the fairly quiet reception area. "We have a John Doe." She threw open the door and stood aside so Seifer could peek into the room. "And the only thing he says, over and over again, is 'Is Seifer all right?'"

"I'm perfect in all ways, who the hells..." His voice trailed off as he recognized the thin figure in the bed.

Squall Leonhart.

Unnecessarily, Seifer pointed at Squall and commanded, "Stay right there." He grabbed Ames by the elbow and pulled her back into the hallway, shutting the door. "What the f- what?" He took a breath. "What... happened? How bad is he hurt?" It had to be bad if he was asking for Seifer; they hadn't seen each other since the war, years ago.

Ames beamed at Seifer. "You do know who he is! Excellent." She led the way back to the station, with Seifer tagging along feeling dazed. "He was struck by a bus. The driver said he just appeared out of nowhere right in front of him. He was very disorientated and dehydrated, and all he would do is ask for Seifer - you, I'm guessing. Well, with the name and the matching scars - what is that, some sort of ritual?" She rooted around her desk and started gathering forms to be filled out.

"Yeah, an initiation into a lifetime of stupidity. He get hit in the head or what?" Seifer noticed 'what' seemed to be his word of the day.

"That's the odd part, he was struck soundly but the bus fortunately wasn't moving too fast - still, it threw him and he does have a concussion but so far no sign of bleeding in his brain. The disorientation could be from the extreme dehydration. All his other injuries seem to be a much older and more healed than they should be - he has some terrible scars, too." Ames handed a stack of papers to Seifer and smiled brightly. "What did you say his name was?"

Numbly, Seifer took the paperwork. "You know, I should really call his people and tell them where he is. I'll bring these right back."

Saved from further discussion by Ames being summoned by a patient, Seifer wandered out to the small lobby and collapsed in one of the hideous pea green chairs. He dropped his tool box by his feet with a clunk and dug out his cell phone. Seifer had no idea if Squall was under cover or even still with Garden and SeeD, but he knew who to ask.

The Estharian communication technology was still new enough that Seifer had to go through an exchange to reach Balamb, and then another pause while they routed to Garden. When he had attended, way back when, Garden hadn't even had a phone system - all information was passed by closed computer systems and couriers. Eventually, he got a chipper voice informing him he'd reached B-Garden.

"Headmaster." Seifer demanded. When she hesitated, he added crisply, "It's an emergency."

She didn't ask any more questions, and Seifer was debating whether or not that was efficient or lazy when the line was picked up.

"Leonhart."

Seifer hung up the phone with a snap. He felt like his head was surround by question marks, like he was some sort of cartoon character. His old friend 'what?' came back to haunt him, bringing its companions 'the' and 'fuck' but they weren't much help.

He considered his options, rejecting the first- to rush home, grab the cat and his gunblade, and head for the hills - as conduct unbecoming a Knight. Seifer was kicking himself for saying it was an emergency; that would surely pique their interest. He'd been living his life so happily without SeeD and Garden, too. Seifer could only hope that having to trace the call through two exchanges would slow Leonhart up - and it was Leonhart who answered at Balamb Garden, he'd know that cool monotone anywhere. So... who the hell was in that bed, then?

Gathering up the papers and his toolkit, Seifer marched back to Mystery Man's room. He waved the sheaf of paperwork at the nurses as he went by. "Going to do these in the room."

"Did you reach his family? What did you say his name was?"

"Couldn't talk to anyone. I'll keep you posted." Seifer breezed into the room and flopped in the horrible plastic chair by the window. It was a quad room, but the slender kid in the bed was the only current resident.

The tools rattled and the boy shifted slightly, murmuring, "Did Seifer make it?"

"Sure did. Better luck next time."

The boy in the bed smiled faintly. His lips moved, forming the word 'asshole' before he relaxed into a deeper sleep. Seifer propped his head on his fist and looked him over. It was definitely Squall Leonhart, more or less exactly as he'd last seen him, complete with facial scar, earring, and mop of messy brown hair. Bruised up, too skinny, and he still looked all of 15 years old, but then Squall had been a late bloomer so who's to say?

It was possible to have two Squalls at once, he supposed. If life had taught Seifer anything, it was that the impossible can happen at any time. Or all the time, in the case of Time Compression. He wondered briefly if the world could sustain two Squalls. It would take a lot of belts, after all.

What to do now? Whatever doppelganger answered the phone in Cid's office back at B-Garden could take care of himself. But this one, pale and thin and asking for him, could not.

Sighing, Seifer started filling out the forms.

*

 

"S-seifer? Is that you?" The boy in the bed added, sounding more like himself, "under all that hair?"

Rubbing his chin, Seifer said cheerfully, "You can grow a beard too, once you are done with puberty."

Squall ignored that. He ignored half of what people said, and least three quarters of everything from Seifer's lips. He hiked himself up in the bed, wincing, and looked around. "This is not the Infirmary." It sounded accusing.

"Nope, this is the brand spanking new Clinic in Free Timber, a name I voted against as I think it will encourage illegal foresting." 

"Are you all right?" Squall frowned, discovering the IV tube lead to his arm.

"I'm peachy. How do you feel?"

Squall considered the question. "I'm all fucked up."

"You did get hit by a bus."

"I did?" At Seifer's confirming nod, Squall sagged back against the pillows. "Good."

"Good is not the word that would spring to most people's minds," Seifer said with a grin, setting the clipboard of papers aside. Despite what a lot of people thought, he and Squall had always been fond of each other, in a sibling sort of I-hate-you-but-no-one-else-had-better-mess-with-you kind of way. They had been together since the orphanage, after all. And time has a way of erasing old resentments and rivalries.

"No, it's all right, it explains a lot."

"I suppose it does, at that." For old time's sakes, Seifer added, "I told them you were my catamite, so if anyone asks, play along."

That got an eye roll. "Just get me out of here."

"Squall, you got hit by a bus. You know, big metal object, impact and mass times velocity squared and all that? You are lucky you didn't blow the back of your head out your asshole and end up a long red smear."

Squall deftly pulled the IV needle out of his arm and flipped down the security rail on the bed. "Whatever. I'm leaving."

"Hyne on the half shell. You junctioned?" At Squall's nod, Seifer continued, "Blow a few Curagas, then, and I'll go tell the nurses 'It's a Miracle!'"

 

*

 

The doctor, unfortunately, had some experience with magical healing and was not inclined to buy off on the miracle. Instead, he subjected them both to a lengthy lecture about the perils of not healing naturally, how magical curing never really worked on blood loss, dehydration and deep bruising, and how eventually a magical rebound would cause Squall's ass to fall off. Or something. Seifer lost the thread about five minutes in and he could tell Squall hadn't even lasted that long.

Seifer was eventually forced to distract the doctor by promising to come look at remodeling his screened in porch and deck. He hated working on decks, because eventually spiders were always involved, but it was for a good cause.

The trauma team had cut off his belts, and Squall's jacket and shirt were history, but the nurses brought the Griever necklace along with his boots and leather pants. Seifer purchased an overpriced tee shirt from the clinic gift shop; it was tie-dyed in lurid colors and Squall hated it immediately. Which was probably a factor in why Seifer bought it. That and the fact it was one of the few in Squall's size that didn't sport a cutesy animal.

Seifer paid the hospital bill without even wincing at the cost. Once he'd committed himself to an action, he accepted all the logical consequences without much bitching, and his business was successful enough that he could afford it. He gathered up Squall and various medications and informational pamphlets and instructions and herded him out to the truck.

"Hyperion Construction?" Squall asked, eying the sign on the door of the cab.

"Never was sure if Almasy was my name or one Matron made up. But Hyperion is all mine."

Squall levered himself carefully into the truck. "You aren't carrying her." He had Lionheart, of course, in hyperjunction at his hip.

Seifer waited until he was in the driver's seat, seat belt on, before replying, "Not junctioned, either. Not much point, anymore." He started the truck and they drove home in silence.

When Seifer was helping him up the stone steps to his townhouse, Squall said, because he wouldn't ask, "It's been a long time."

"About 8 or 9 years." Things were a little blurry for Seifer, too, in the beginning.

"Not for me."

"I have a theory about that." Seifer got the door unlocked and ushered Squall inside, steering him up the hall to his office and the futon couch. "Time Kompression." Unconsciously, he gave it his sorceress' accent.

Squall sat obediently, which said a lot for how much pain he was in. "Did... anyone miss me?"

What he meant was, didn't anyone notice I was gone? How to explain, Seifer thought. Do I even want to get into what is up with Balamb Garden and SeeD and the man who answered the phone? I've built a new life here; do I want to jeopardize it? And yet...

Honestly, Seifer answered, "I did."

That earned a flash of a shy smile. "Lack of competition, " Squall guessed. He nodded towards Hyperion, proudly displayed in a fancy case Seifer had designed himself. "No wonder she's in moth balls."

Seifer followed his gaze. The fact was, there weren't many monsters around Timber these days, and if a man was hunting something he planned to eat later, like deer, a rifle was a much better choice than a gunblade. He was spared having to explain when his cell phone rang, startling them both. Seifer dropped the discharge instructions on Squall's lap and moved over to his desk to sit while he took the call.

"So, how much can I bill? Do you think we should back charge that counter place? We told them the brackets wouldn't work." Seifer's secretary, Makana, was Raijin's younger sister, and she had the same liquid accent and rapid speech patterns. Seifer missed Rai's 'you know?' as it at least acted as a sort of punctuation, giving the listener a chance to catch up.

"Makana, no, it wasn't about that. It was personal."

"Eee, are you sick? No, you are never sick, you liar. Tell me you didn't do it gratis. You promised not to do favors anymore! I know this is your company and all but good will does not pay our bills..." She launched into a lengthy scold.

Squall, who had been watching intently, smirked as Seifer winced and held the phone further from his ear. Seifer was clearly getting his ass chewed, and he was taking it in the usual fashion of making occasional attentive noises while doodling something on a pad. Making an effort to appear polite, Squall picked up the paperwork and scanned it. He really had been a mess when he'd been admitted, maybe Seifer had been telling the truth about the bus. He had a hazy recollection of the event, but had thought it was Doomtrain. A bus made more sense; Doomtrain shouldn't target friends. Now he was hurt, lost and still 17 while Seifer had grown up, grown a beard, moved out and moved on. Time Kompression sucked.

A skinny gray whip of a cat jumped up on the futon and inspected Squall, its eyes as gold and fathomless as a sorceress'. Squall had less experience with cats than dogs, but he held out his fingers anyway. The cat deigned to sniff at them, but kept its opinion to itself, moving instead down the cushion a ways to sharpen its claws.

Seifer turned and said sharply, "Hey! Quit that!"

To Squall's amusement, the cat paused briefly and flicked an ear in Seifer's direction before resuming his clawing. Seifer sighed into the phone, "Gotta go, gotta beat the cat."

Whatever the response was, Seifer blushed like a schoolgirl and yelped, "Makana!" He hung up quickly, muttering, "She didn't learn that stuff from me."

Squall arched an eyebrow. Seifer gestured with the cell phone, explaining, "Makana, Raijin's little sister, she helps me out at the office when she's not off in the woods studying Timber Owls." At Squall's expression, he added, "Not Zone's old crew, real ones. It involves a lot of scientific gathering of owl barf and other things I hear way too much about." He transferred his attention to the cat, which was still happily shredding the cushion. Squall noticed Seifer's leather desk chair looked a bit tattered, too. "Quit that!" The cat twitched its tail but kept on.

"You have a cat?''

"It was inevitable in this town. I don't really have him; he just hangs around and destroys my furniture. Quit that!"

"What's its name?"

Seifer grinned sheepishly. "Kwytthat." The cat, satisfied with the damage, meandered over and wound itself like smoke around Seifer's ankles. Squall could hear the rumbling purr clear over on the couch.

"Inspired," Squall said dryly. "What were you talking on? Some sort of communicator?"

Doing a double take at the cell phone, Seifer said slowly, "I'd forgotten they didn't have these when we were kids. It seems like they are ubiquitous now. It's a cell phone, yeah, a sort of private communicator. Hyne, Squall... "

"I was lost in Time Kompression... and now I'm a relic, past tense."

Absently, Seifer scooped up the cat, which hung bonelessly in his hand. "Not past tense and not forgotten, Squall. One thing at a time - you dig out your meds and I'll feed you and the cat. Then we'll make up your bed, and while you nap, I'll hit the library for some current events and recent history books, tech magazines, that sort of crap."

Squall nodded, then cheered up a little. "Weapons Monthly?"

"Are you healthy enough to jump right in with whacking material?" Seifer grinned at Squall's glacial glare. "I'll see what I can do."

 

*

 

Squall wanted a shower and Seifer couldn't blame him. That raised the question of pajamas, since Squall couldn't sleep in his leathers, although Seifer was sure he'd try. Seifer found some old drawstring sleep shorts and few smallish tee shirts and added clothes to the shopping list.

When Makana stayed with him after she first came to Timber, she bought linens and pillows and all that for the futon, which she left behind when she found her own place, claiming they didn't fit the bed in her furnished apartment. It clearly had nothing to do with the masculine gray and black design on the things. Seifer suspected Makana really just thought he was a helpless bachelor and that she was acting on orders from Fuu, since she also left all the kitchen crap she'd bought. As far as Seifer knew, kitchens were one size fits all. He still had no idea what he was supposed to do with some of it, like the weird little cup with the slots in the sides.

Seifer made up the futon into a bed and headed to the kitchen, tripping over the cat. He fed Kwyt first, because he had seniority, and also because he yowled louder. When Seifer carried his culinary triumph of grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup in a mug back to the office/guest room, Squall was seated cross legged in the bed and reading the labels on the pill bottles.

"Who is Erik Hart?"

"You are, now." Seifer traded him food for pills and set about defeating the childproof caps. "I didn't know at first if you were undercover or what. Eric means 'lion'," he added helpfully, holding out some large white pills and one tiny red tablet.

"I think that's 'Arik', with an 'A'," Squall said. But he took the pills.

"To quote, 'whatever'."

Seifer left Squall with a thermos of tea, a couple bottles of water, and the remote to his television. By the time he returned with food, books, Timber Maniacs and Weapons Monthly magazines, clothes and grooming items, the sun was setting and Squall was sound asleep. Seifer stacked Squall's loot by the bed where it would be easy to find and turned off the boring gardening show that was droning on the television. He loaded up a small ice chest with water, sports drinks, fruit juice and some deli sandwiches in case Squall woke up in the middle of the night. He fished around in the tangled comforter and scooped up Kwyt.

Without moving, Squall said, "Leave him."

"He'll get into the cooler and eat your supper." The cat could get into anything; seasoned burglars had nothing on Kwyt. Seifer had opened the cupboard before and found him serenely napping on the dinner plates.

"Leave him. He likes me."

"You are sleeping in his bed." Kwyt jumped out of Seifer's hands and landed feather light on Squall's legs before curling up and purring loudly. "Ok, fine, but no crying to me when he boots you out of the bed."

"I won't boot him out."

"I wasn't talking about you."

 

*

 

The little red tablet really kicked Squall's ass, which meant he was still asleep when Seifer replenished the liquids and food before leaving to work. The down side of that, he thought as he let himself in that afternoon, is that Squall would hate it and refuse to take another, and therefore was most likely in pain and pissy about it.

Or, Seifer amended, as he peeked into the office, Squall could fire off a few more curagas and spend the day snooping my stuff.

Squall was again sitting cross-legged on the futon, which this time was neatly returned to couch duty. He had most of Hyperion in his lap and was carefully administering a drop of gun oil. The rest of Seifer's gunblade was laid out on a stack of paper napkins on the coffee table.

"What happened to not using magic and healing naturally and all that?"

Squall shrugged. Seifer glared accusingly at his traitorous cat. "I thought you were going to watch him!"

"He did. All day." Kwyt reached out a paw towards some tempting looking and easily-lost-in-the carpet part, but Squall growled "No!" and the cat paused to groom and rethink the situation.

"You are lucky you are one of the very few people I wouldn't kill for touching my 'blade."

"You in the habit of locking away things you care about and not touching them for months on end?"

That was a little below the belt. Seifer grabbed the doorjamb and forced himself to stay calm. "Hyne on the half shell. I've been busy."

"Whatever. The firing mechanism was dusty." Squall sounded personally offended on Hyperion's behalf. He probably was. He efficiently reassembled the gun mechanism.

Weakly, Seifer offered, "I haven't had any reason to take her out."

"Whatever," Squall repeated, handing Seifer his gunblade, grip first. "I'm here now. Let's do this."

"Duel? Right now?"

Squall shrugged. "Why not?"

Lots of reasons came to Seifer's mind, such as the fact that Squall had just left the hospital the day before, that Seifer had not actually fought another gunblader in eight years, that he had worked all day and his ass was dragging and he still had to fix dinner, and ...

The corner of Squall's mouth quirked up. "Or are you not up for it... Old Man?"

Seifer snatched Hyperion out of Squall's hand. "I am going to hand you your ass gift wrapped, Punk."

They moved out to Seifer's backyard; although small it had plenty of room to maneuver, because everything in it was dead as hell. It was painfully obvious the only one who puttered around out there was the cat. Squall looked at the scarecrow shrubs and desolate flowerbed. "Not good with gardens?"

"The running gag of my life."

Squall huffed and summoned Lionheart. Seifer checked Hyperion out of habit, then nodded and took his own ready stance. The blade was a heavy but comforting weight; it had been too long since he'd used her. He smirked at Squall and reminded himself 'don't put the kid back in the hospital'.

A flash of silver and Seifer stumbled back, trying to surreptitiously check that he still had a full set of ears. 'Correction', he thought, 'don't let the kid put you in the hospital.'

"Hyne," Squall said, all sympathy, "you suck."

"Brat." Seifer tried a few swings, which were parried easily by Squall, and managed to awkwardly turn a thrust. He quit thinking about it and made himself relax, and old muscle memory came to the rescue. The next volley of blows went more smoothly, and then the years melted away. He and Squall danced over the dried and brittle lawn, blades flashing in the setting sun. Seifer laughed with the sheer joy of it, and Squall grinned back at him, as wild and dangerous as any feral animal. Sparks from the repartee rained around them.

Squall's skills were still fresh from the war, and he had junctions to boost him, so it was pure dumb luck Seifer managed to hook Lionheart just right and flip him out of Squall's hand. In the old days, he'd let Squall pick up his blade and they'd keep going, but he was just out of the hospital and there was no point in over doing it. The fact that Seifer felt like he was about to have a heart attack was irrelevant.

"I win," he said, and collapsed on the straw colored lawn, panting.

Squall sank down beside him, barely breathing hard. "You don't completely suck," he offered. High praise.

"Considering I won. We'll do that again sometime. Best two out of three."

"We were already up to best 116 out of 231."

"Clearly time to start over, then." Seifer rolled onto his back.

"We stopped at a good time."

"You exhausted, too?"

"No," Squall said calmly. "We've set the lawn on fire." He hopped to his feet, holstered Lionheart in one smooth motion, and ran over to the faucet and the ancient hose coiled up beside it.

Seifer turned onto his side. The tinder dry grass was indeed burning merrily, ignited by the sparks of their combat. In the time it took for Squall to connect the dusty and stiff hose, the flames spread to the withered forsythia bush. He eventually turned on the water and was sprayed all over by the leaky connection. Seifer managed to sit up, but was laughing too hard to be of any use while Squall put out the fire.

As a reward, Squall stuffed the nozzle down the back of Seifer's shirt as he walked by. He fished it out, cursing, but Squall was at the faucet by then and cranked up the water pressure. The hose flipped like a live thing, soaking the few parts of Seifer not already wet.

Seifer growled, "That's it for you!" and pointed the hose at his nemesis.

Who calmly turned off the water.

Seifer looked, astonished, at his now useless weapon. Then he focused on Squall, who wisely smothered his own laughter and darted into the house. With a roar, Seifer charged after him.

They ran through the house like madmen, feinting and dodging around furniture, leaving muddy wet tracks. Seifer finally caught Squall in his bedroom, tackling him to the bed. He pinned Squall's hands over his head and grinned down at him. "So now what are you going to do?"

Squall arched up and kissed him, offering a different sort of competition. Helpless as always to resist the challenge, Seifer kissed him back.

 

*

 

When Seifer breezed in an unheard of 15 minutes late for work Monday morning, Makana greeted him with, "I was just about to start calling hospitals. What happened? Wouldn't the truck start? Should I have the mechanic look at it?" He ambled over, still enjoying the afterglow of Squall's penchant for shower sex, and dropped a kiss on the top of Makana's head. She tilted back in her chair and stared at him, wide eyed. "Hyne, he got laid. Knock out the walls, we'll never fit his ego in here now!"

Seifer made his way to his office. When she called after him, "Who is it? I will find out, you know!" He just winked at her and shut the door. It took him a few minutes to realize he was humming.

So he was fucking a 17 year old. Once in a while, Seifer even let the 17 year old fuck him, having no particular set preference. Just the idea of it put a bounce in his step and a grin on his face.

Squall was distracting and demanding, and Seifer felt alive for the first time in years. They still fought, both physically and verbally, but there was a comfortable feel to it, like it didn't really matter who won, because they could always have a rematch at their leisure. Best 193 out of 385. Whatever.

Oddly, Squall showed no interest in returning to Balamb, and Seifer was afraid to bring it up. He seemed content to putter around Seifer's house. After he'd rerouted Seifer's stereo system (Squall was right, it did sound better), changed Seifer's cell phone plan ("I researched it and they are ripping you off."), it was inevitable that he would move onto the yard. Seifer supposed a garden was in Squall's future one way or another.

Squall pulled weeds, pruned shrubs, and raked. He discovered a half buried decorative border and the remains of what was either a pond or a testament to poor drainage. Kwyt, delighted to have someone around to feed him in the long hours while Seifer was at work, became Squall's constant companion. Except that Squall and he had different ideas of how to appreciate a freshly turned over flowerbed, so the cat was occasionally locked in the house and reduced to watching from the window. At least he still had furniture to shred.

Seifer picked up a pizza on the way home. He left it on the table of their tiny dinette set, and plucked Kwyt off the counter. It was safer to keep Kwyt and the pizza as far apart as possible ever since the cat had figured out how to open the box. Damn Makana and her extra anchovy specials. Seifer peeked in the office for Squall, then headed out back, still lugging Kwytthat.

The yard had improved dramatically. New grass was coming up, and bright flowers filled a selection of clay urns and raised planters. Seifer looked around, impressed. "All we need now is a barbecue and some lawn chairs."

Squall straightened up and smiled at Seifer. He'd been planting a sick looking twig in the back corner. Kwyt struggled out of Seifer's hand and sauntered over to snoop. Seifer followed.

"We are growing sticks, now? I thought you were trying for real plants."

"Peach tree. They take a couple years to fruit. You have to baby them a little but you like peaches, right?"

Seifer loved peaches; he could eat them by the bushel. He was touched Squall remembered. It came to him, then, that Squall was planning to stay; there was no way there would ever be peaches if he weren’t around to coddle the sapling. Seifer wrapped his arms around Squall from behind and rested his chin on the top of Squall's head, just holding them. "I like peaches," he managed, once he could talk without sounding too sentimental. Squall smiled up at him, then elbowed Seifer in the ribs.

"Pizza is getting cold. And your cat is digging in the lily bed."

"Quit that," Seifer said automatically, but he let go and headed back to the house. Squall followed after giving the cat a quick squirt with the new and much improved hose.

Seifer stopped dead suddenly, then took a slow turn, as if taking in the yard for the first time. Primroses, lilies, some other bright little flower jobs, pots and grass and equipment and fruit trees... "How are you paying for all this?" Seifer left Squall money in case he needed lunch or something, but never a lot because it had simply never occurred to him that Squall would need money. He had accounts at most places in town and had added "Erik Hart" to be allowed to charge, but they were mainly at places he used for his business. The prior state of his backyard was proof positive Seifer had never bothered opening an account with the local nursery; he wasn't entirely sure where it was.

Squall shrugged. "My old Garden account is still active. Must have accrued interest or something, there is a lot more money in there than I remember. Cid paid A levels well."

Breathe, Seifer told himself. Think. Slowly, he said, "Your card has to be expired by now."

"They never even ask for the card, just the code." Squall shrugged again.

"Someone at Garden is bound to notice."

"What if they do? It's my gil and SeeD should understand Time Compression. I wouldn't mind seeing the others again, anyway, just to see how they are doing. You never went back?"

Seifer forced himself to walk into the house. "No, no point, I wasn't a SeeD and, you know, Fuu and Rai moved on and..."

"I was gone."

Grateful for the conversational rescue, Seifer nodded. Truth be told, he'd never even looked or asked. He'd been too afraid of the answers. Seifer had decided being a mercenary wasn't for him and moved on, calling in favors from old friends in the Timber Owls.

Sitting at the little table, Seifer tried to convince himself it would be all right. Nothing had happened yet, and no one had come looking for him in all these years. Landscaping was expensive, yes, but Squall was right, SeeD paid well and the odds of anyone (Leonhart, the voice said in his memory, cool and slightly impatient) even noticing weren't worth calculating.

Eventually Seifer gave his pizza to the cat and took Squall to bed. He held Squall as he slept, watching the red display of the alarm clock tick away the night, and tried to tell himself it wasn't marking the end of them together.

 

*

 

It was dark by the time Seifer got home after a long ugly day at work. He'd been uneasy and preoccupied and as a consequence, didn't double-check everything as he usually did. One of Seifer's employees had gotten hurt, not badly fortunately, but in need of stitching up, and Seifer felt guilty enough to wait at the clinic with the man. He'd called and left a message for Squall, explaining. He told himself Squall hadn't answered the phone because he was probably doing yard work. He told himself Squall hadn't called back once he got the message because that's something Squall would consider it a waste of time to call someone to acknowledge they had called you.

He opened the gate and trudged down the side of the house, intending to come in the back where the boot rack was kept. The house was dark, but the cat hopped down from their new patio table and ran over to claw on the screen at the kitchen door. "Quit that," Seifer said, adding to the figure still seated at the table, "Why are you sitting here in the dark like a dumbass?"

"Seifer," he said, his voice low and slightly amused. He stood up.

Adrenalin made Seifer's heart stutter. He turned slowly, affixing a smirk. "Leonhart," he replied, because this wasn't Squall, "about time you found me."

Leonhart made a scoffing noise. "I knew where you were." He moved out of the shadows slightly, still all black leathers and belts, but definitely grown up, with a man's shoulders and jaw. His long hair was tucked carelessly behind his ears. "You taught me: leave nothing to chance."

"Sure, you listened to that, but not to my fashion advice? You need a haircut."

The ghost of a smile flickered as Leonhart refused the bait. "The wife likes it." He gave a 'what can you do?' shrug.

"You married Rinoa?" Seifer never expected that. He moved away from the house, into the yard where the light and shadows were more evenly distributed. Kwyt hunkered down on the porch, watching.

"Quistis," he corrected, turning almost absent mindedly to keep Seifer in prime target range.

She was the better choice. "You've done well for yourself, then."

"So have you. Give me what I'm here for and you can get back to it."

Seifer's jaw dropped. "You are here for the money? Hang on a minute, I'll write you a check."

"Money?" Leonhart frowned, then made a chopping motion with his hand. "I don't care about that. I want the copy."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't screw with me, Seifer. 'Erik Hart'? Not particularly inspired. You used to be better."

"Ah, well, I was younger then." Seifer kept edging slowly to the left, trying to get dodging room, painfully aware of his lack of gunblade and magic. Leonhart moved with him in a bizarre dance.

"Stop stalling and hand it over."

Leonhart doesn't know where he is, Seifer realized suddenly. He didn't either, but instinct said where ever Squall was, he was safer there than in Leonhart's clutches. "You never struck me as the narcissistic type."

"You haven't out grown being contrary simply because you can?" Leonhart tossed his head, forcing his hair back. "There is another reason." He scowled, thinking. " ...why would you want to keep it?"

"Him," Seifer snapped. "He is a man, just like you." Just exactly like you. Like you were.

"It," Leonhart stressed, "is a fragment of me, a sliver of time. My time. I want it back."

"And do what, Sq- Leonhart? Seriously. You can't get lost time back, everyone knows that." They'd turned so that Leonhart had his back to the house; a vulnerable position Seifer suspected he risked only because that left the neighbor's porch light shining in Seifer's eyes.

"You can imagine having copies, at different points in time, bumbling about? Each holding a precious piece of oneself, a memory, a slice of soul?"

Seifer stopped, chilled. "You kill them." Of course he did. That's what Leonhart was, a mercenary, a soldier, a killer. "Hyne on the half shell, the repercussions -"

"There are none. The past is already dead." Leonhart sounded almost bored, but he was flexing his hands. Seifer could hear the leather creak in the darkness. "Once termination occurs, I reabsorb the memories. Usually it's a very simple procedure. This time, it didn't wander back to Garden. I have been patient, but no more."

"I will never give him up."

Leonhart sighed. "Still the romantic. I looked up romance. People think it's about love and heroism but it's really about suffering. I'm not into suffering."

"At least, not your own," Seifer spat bitterly.

Another lift of the shoulders. "If I do not absorb it, there is a chance I will be absorbed. My son will born in 72 days. I can't take the risk. I will be there for him."

"I have a lot to lose, too." As Seifer said the words, it came to him how true they were. He was proud of his business, fond of his new friends, but he'd give it all up for Squall.

"What you have is an illusion."

"Yet I like it better than your reality."

Kwyt reached up and grabbed the screen door with his claws, banging it against the frame, his signal that he wanted in and was tired of waiting on whoever was in the kitchen to stop dillydallying around. Seifer glanced over and said, "Quit that."

Leonhart moved like a striking snake, and Seifer found the sharp cold edge of Lionheart under his chin. The gunblade dripped blue sparks, illuminating the yard; it hadn't even been unsheathed a heartbeat ago.

"I'm unarmed," Seifer reminded him, his eyes narrowing.

"Then it would be in your best interest to cooperate."

The screen banged again but this time, Seifer kept his attention on Leonhart. "You will have to kill me to take him."

"Seifer," Leonhart said tiredly. "You may have stumbled across the shard of me that loved you once. Keep in mind it is not currently part of me. Of course I'm going to kill you."

Seifer threw himself backwards as Leonhart flicked his wrist. He lost a chunk of beard and a slice of skin, but was still - temporarily - alive. He landed flat on his back in the soft soil, as exposed and helpless as a turtle. Leonhart turned the heavy gunblade effortlessly for a downward stab; a gunshot rang out, surprising Seifer, who had been anticipating the bite of the blade. Leonhart couldn't possibly miss at this range, but since Seifer currently felt no shock of pain, he rolled with a halfhearted attempt at a leg sweep. Leonhart stepped over him in an absent minded, almost prissy manner, raining splashes of blood down on Seifer.

Leonhart's attention was on something else. Used to having the backup of a team, he turned to assess the new danger instead of automatically casting Curaga. That split second was all the time Squall needed to cast Slow. It delayed Leonhart's attacks and his ability to heal himself, and coincidentally slowed the blood streaming from the gunshot wound in his chest. Leonhart sank to one knee, breath bubbling.

Squall hefted Lionheart and charged. Seifer scrabbled to his feet and threw himself between the two SeeDs, nearly losing the rest of his beard and head with it while Squall tried to pull his blow. "Squall, no!"

"Are you insane?" Squall sounded utterly betrayed.

"No, listen, you can't kill him."

Squall's eyes narrowed. "I think I can." Leonhart made a gurgly noise that could have been a huff of amusement. He was bleeding out, but slowly, and was waiting out the spell effects calmly.

"What will happen to you if he dies? If you end up with all his memories and stuff... you won't be only you anymore. You'll also be him, pushing 30 and married with offspring."

"Ice cold, you mean? What the fuck, Seifer? You knew I was there and you left me to turn into that?"

"It’s not like that. … I was young and dumb and embarrassed about the whole war and being brain washed by the sorceress and losing and all." Seifer sighed. "I just avoided the whole deal with Garden. I'm sorry." He was, for Leonhart. He added, trying to change the mood, "It will look really bad for Squall Leonhart to die in Seifer Almasy's back yard. Plus we'd have to rip up the landscaping to bury his ass."

Squall huffed, then pointed his gunblade at Leonhart. "This is not the future I want. If this is what SeeD does to you, you can keep it."

Leonhart got a Curaga off finally and stood up. "All that time to aim and you didn't shoot me in the head? Sloppy."

"I didn't want to hit Seifer."

Seifer took the hint and moved out of the way. "No more shooting. Your ammo can go right through that piece of shit fence and kill one of the neighbors. And no GF's, I can only imagine what Shiva would do with two Squalls." Both Squall and Leonhart stilled a moment, getting that faraway look of someone checking his junctions. Seifer crossed his arms over his chest. "In fact, no more fighting, dammit. Leonhart, get the fuck out of our yard. You guys are wrecking the lawn."

Neither Squall moved. Seifer sighed. "Leonhart, you heard him. Squall doesn't want your life, and I sure as hells don't want him to traipse off and leave me for Quisty and Garden."

"We let him go, what's to stop him from coming back?" Squall glared venomously at his older reflection.

"Give up Quistis and my children for Seifer?" Leonhart sounded genuinely astonished.

"No, come back and kill us both in our sleep."

"You wouldn't do that," Seifer protested.

"I wouldn't."

"Yet you thought of it," Leonhart pointed out. "You won't take my word for it." He added, his first indication he might be willing to go away and let things continue as they were. "Shiva?"

Squall nodded slowly. "She likes the idea of two of us, but not of us fighting."

"You live your life; I live mine. Shiva will tell us if we are within range of each other; fair warning."

"That will work for now."

Seifer almost sagged with relief. The idea of either Squall dead didn't sit well with him, no matter what the cause.

"Two things," Leonhart said briskly. "You will have to take another name."

"I already have." Erik S. Hart said.

"And," the faintest echo of a smile warmed Leonhart's expression, "Get your own bank account."

"Cheapskate," Seifer muttered.

"It's not me. Quistis threw a fit. She accused me of having a bit on the side." Leonhart shrugged again. "Hormones."

"That's my gil, too." Squall/Erik wasn't used to worrying about money, but he'd liked being able to pay his own way and not be completely dependent on Seifer.

"I'll give you half of the balance at the end of the war."

Erik felt he was entitled to interest, but... "Good enough."

"So," Seifer said with excessive cheer, "thanks for dropping by. We'd invite you in but the maid quit suddenly. Give our love to Quistis and congrats and all that."

"Close the gate behind you," Erik added, Lionheart still in hand.

Highly amused, Leonhart did his fancy salute and sheathed his gunblade before turning his back and strolling off into the shadows. Kwytthat followed him a short way on the off chance he had food; Leonhart paused at the gate to rub the cat's ears. "I don't know if you care, but I am happy how things worked out. I am rich, famous, important, and I have a beautiful, intelligent wife who gives me wonderful children."

"I have Seifer," Erik said, in the tone of someone who'd won hands down. Seifer puffed up; if Makana thought his ego was out of control before, she would be horrified, now.

Leonhart chuckled and went out the gate, carefully closing it behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Erik pointed Lionheart at Seifer and said, "You better not make me regret this."

Seifer stepped forward and pulled him into his arms. Erik hid his face in Seifer's chest, eventually growling in a muffled voice, "You fucking left me, you son of a bitch."

"I won't do it again." Seifer stroked his back, thinking. "It wasn't like that, really. I was just too chicken shit to go see you - him - and risk finding out you really did hate me and blame me. Then time went by... and you turned up and gave me a chance to backtrack a little, and reclaim some things I'd thought I'd lost forever."

Erik shivered under Seifer's hand. "How," he asked, "can the part of you which loves someone just wander off and not be missed?"

"I think it happens more often that you realize. Memories are like cards in a deck, some get shuffled to the bottom, and you can play a whole game without using them."

"... That’s a really shitty analogy."

Seifer kissed the top of Erik's head. "How about this: I love you."

"Much better." Erik tipped his head up to kiss Seifer. "You are bleeding all over both of us. Let’s get inside."

"You mean, 'let’s go home'."

Erik smiled brilliantly as he took Seifer's hand and led him to their house.


End file.
